


Grow As We Go

by sprinkleofsunshine



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dean Winchester Misses Castiel, Dean Winchester in Heaven, F/M, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Jack is God, M/M, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Jody Mills, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Songfic, Wayward Daughters (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkleofsunshine/pseuds/sprinkleofsunshine
Summary: Heaven, Dean finds, is surprisingly not easy to adjust to.Something feels eerie about the place. He’s chalked it up to just plain paranoia, considering the quite literal Hell on Earth he’d experienced in life. But now that there’s nothing to hunt, why is he still so uneasy? Surely Jack’s new Heaven is trustworthy... right?***(in which dean, after finally figuring out life in heaven, appears alive and well on earth with no recollection as to how he got there.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak (Implied)
Kudos: 7





	Grow As We Go

**Author's Note:**

> well... i'm back from my hiatus!!
> 
> also, i'm a heller. surprise?
> 
> i've been a huge fan of spn for years now, and after experiencing the absolute disappointment and heartbreak of season 15, i figured i'd do what every other fic writer has done, and rewire the ending entirely. 
> 
> this is my first fic in this fandom, so go easy on me.
> 
> enjoy!!
> 
> ~ sprinkle

_Cas helped._

The words rattle around his restless mind. _Cas helped._

Dean sighs softly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Heaven is new and exciting, of course, but this? Just Dean, his Baby, and endless road? _This_ is home to him, this is the familiarity he so desperately craves. His hand reaches for the volume almost mechanically, letting Led Zeppelin fill the air around him. 

It's peaceful here. Bobby had shown him that much when he'd arrived, sitting outside of the Roadhouse, beer in hand. He'd looked so calm and content, considering the hellish life he'd had before. His smile had brought Dean a warm feeling in his chest he hadn't felt for years.

Still, alone in the car, his mind reels. Between moments of blissful silence, Bobby’s voice echoes distantly. _Cas helped._

Castiel… He’d tried so hard to push that name out of his mind, to remove any memory he had connected to him. Now, hearing the name so soon after tucking it away, his head feels heavy.

Memories flicker in the back of Dean's mind, as though they only just happened; memories of bright blue eyes and shoulders bumping together and last words that should have never been said. 

( _Could he really be back? Was Bobby just trying to make a joke? Did Bobby even_ know _about Castiel's death, about the sacrifice he'd made for Dean?_ )

Truth be told, he hasn't stopped thinking about that heart-wrenching monologue Cas had delivered. And, more importantly, he hasn't stopped thinking about his own response- or, really, his lack thereof. He'd been so distracted, so wrapped up in trying to unravel the jumble of thoughts and emotions rushing through his mind, he hadn't had time to voice what exactly he was thinking, and- here he is, in his perfect Heaven, doing the exact same thing that he regrets most.

A chill settles, heavy and firm, like a hand gripping at his shoulder. " _Dean_."

( _S_ _peak of the devil. Or, well, angel._ )

Dean jumps, slamming on the breaks and ignoring the unholy shriek of the Impala's wheels on the asphalt. 

"Cas?" He's breathing hard now, chest heaving with something unfamiliar and terrifying. "Cas!"

The radio shutters for a moment, wavering with static before shutting off completely. Dean runs a hand over his face. He turns at the volume knob eagerly.

"Cas," he says, voice lowered, "if that's you, buddy, you gotta let me know. Say something…"

More static, then silence. "Castiel… C'mon, talk to me, damn it!" Frustrated, he slams his hand down on the steering wheel, head leaning back until it bumps against the headrest. "Cas, please…"

He waits for a moment, but… nothing.

Dean groans and shifts forward in his seat, tapping at the radio until it flickers back on, and the familiar hum of _Stairway to Heaven_ comes to life. Ironic, maybe, but he can't bring himself to care. Either Cas was trying to reach out to him just now, or the angel's absence is finally driving Dean to insanity.

He puts Baby back in drive and tries to block out the last few minutes from his mind.

Cas is gone. There's no use in pretending he isn't.

***

He drives for a while, until the sunset catches up to him. 

( _The sun sets in Heaven? Weird._ _Dean figured it would be eternal sunshine and rainbows, but hey. He's been wrong before._ )

Soon enough, he finds himself pulling into an empty driveway. The house is familiar in a way Dean can't quite place, but he doesn't feel afraid as he parks Baby and makes his way to the door. He's about to knock when the door swings open, and immediately he's met with a pair of eyes that make his heart flip.

"Mom?"

"Dean?" Mary says, taking a step back. "You're…"

"Dead? I know."

She frowns. "That young, huh?"

He shrugs. "Earlier than you expected?"

Mary laughs softly, shaking her head. "Well, I can't say I'm not surprised… I've seen you boys hunt, how reckless you were. I figured life would catch up to you sometime. It always does. Here, come on in- John will be happy to see you."

_John?_

( _He'd thought Bobby was kidding about that._ )

Dean blinks, only hesitating for a moment before stepping inside. Sure enough, there's his father, leaning against the kitchen door of his childhood home with a beer in hand. He looks up, nodding at Dean from across the room.

"Son."

He presses his lips into a thin smile. "Dad. Didn't know you'd be here."

"Huh. Tell me how you really feel."

He lowers his head instinctively. "Sorry, sir. Disregard that."

John smirks, shaking his head. He grabs a beer off the counter, tossing it to Dean. "Relax, kid. You're home."

" _We're_ home," Mary corrects, reaching up to ruffle Dean's hair. "The gang's all here."

Dean winces a bit, hands moving to fix his hair quickly. "Well, three out of four ain't bad…" He sits down on the sofa, relaxing into it with a sigh. "Hey, I remember this! I used to watch _Scooby-Doo_ every week, right here. Mom would never let me eat my pie in front of the TV. I'd always try to sneak it in."

"Oh, I remember," his mother adds with a soft chuckle. She makes her way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass dish of something Dean doesn't recognize. "Don't get too comfortable- supper's just about done, boys."

"About time," John sighs, settling down at the dining room table. "Comin', Dean? Soup's on." 

He follows along, of course, sitting where he always used to. The kitchen is warm, the smell of spices and a home-cooked meal settling around them, forming a knot of unrecognizable emotion in Dean's chest. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to breathe it all in, then looks at the dish in front of him. Not Winchester Surprise- ironically, that _is_ pretty surprising for him.

( _Funny, Dean thinks, she never did cook much back at home. Mom was no Paula Deen growing up_ _._ )

They fix their plates and eat in comfortable silence, only the soft scrape of silverware on their plates echoing through the house. Dean can't remember the last time they all took the time to have a meal together, as a _family._ Hell, the closest things he'd really had to a regular family dinner were half-assed burgers from seedy diners, shared in a stuffy motel room with Sam.

Dean's stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of his brother, alone in the world for the first time in years. He wonders if Sam's still dating Eileen, if he's still hunting, if he still lives in the bunker. Does Sam miss him? Did he burn the body? Maybe he could find a way to go back, visit him somehow-

"You're awful quiet," John mumbles around a mouthful of food.

Dean blinks. "Hm?"

"Just sayin'. You never did shut up as a kid."

"John!" Mary chuckles weakly, swatting at him with her napkin. "Be nice. He just got here, he's probably just overwhelmed."

“I’m being honest!” John is smiling, shooting a quick wink at his wife.

Dean sighs, taking a swig of his beer. "M'fine, just… thinking about Sammy."

His parents exchange a knowing look, something sparkling in their eyes. 

"Don't worry about Sam," Mary says, voice soft. "I'm sure he's fine. Probably misses you like hell, but… He's okay. He always is, right?"

 _No,_ Dean wants to say. _He's usually_ not _okay, that's why I'm worried._ But he just bites his tongue, nodding anyway.

"Dean," John pipes up, "you're in Heaven. You don't need to worry about anything anymore. Sam's gonna be fine."

( _They make a good point. Jack's watching over them all. Surely he'd let Dean know if Sam was in any trouble, right?_ )

He rubs his eyes. "Yeah, you're probably right. I think I'm just tired. Long drive, y'know?"

Mary giggles. "That's okay. We have plenty of time to catch up later. Go get some rest."

He smiles, setting his plate in the sink before making the familiar trek to his childhood bedroom. Something is tugging at his heart, unfamiliar and warm. He isn't quite sure what to make of it, but he decides it's most likely the happiness that comes with finally having a home, finally being able to relax. He definitely isn't used to that.

Dean makes it to the door, ready to head inside, when he feels another chill. It's not unlike the one he'd felt in the car earlier, but this time, it grabs at his hands.

He looks down at his hands, swearing for a moment he can see rough fingers grazing against his own.

"Cas?"

The feeling is gone just as quickly as it arrived. Dean cringes at himself, at his foolish belief in something- someone- that clearly wasn't there. _Guess delusion is still a thing in Heaven._ He pushes the door open and makes his way into his bedroom. 

There are no posters on the walls, nothing flashy or formal, but it doesn't feel empty. Dean doesn't remember much about his childhood, about the life he had before hunting. Still, the sight of the room he grew up in makes Dean's heart warm. He smiles, closing the door behind him.

Cold air brushes his arm again. " _Dean, please._ "

He gasps, stepping back.

" _You have to listen._ "

Something tightens in his chest. "I'm listening, Cas. I'm here. Talk to me." He looks around, back pressed against the closed door, and sinks to the floor. "I'm right here."

He waits patiently, listening for something, _anything,_ to stand out. But once again, other than the soft chatter of the television in the distance, Dean is met with nothing but silence. His head bumps against the door hard, dull pain resonating in his skull, but he doesn't care. 

"Son of a bitch!"

There’s a knock at his door. “Dean?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and standing up. The door opens just as he moves out of reach. 

“I, uh…” Mary looks dumbfounded. “I made pie.”

Dean smiles warily, taking the plate from his mother’s hands. He signals her with a quick nod, sitting on the bed, and she takes a seat beside him.

“How’re you doing?”

“I’m…” He groans, shaking his head. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

His mom’s hand comes to settle on his shoulder, and he leans into the touch. She smiles at him. “Still worrying about Sam, I take it?”

( _Which, okay, sure. That’s true. But right now, Dean’s brain is a little more occupied trying to find a certain angel of the Lord who may or may not be in love with him. There’s a lot happening, and it hasn't even been a full day!_ )

“Something like that,” he offers, shoveling a piece of pie in his mouth so he doesn’t have to talk. “Woah. That’s good pie.”

There’s an aura of sadness- no, _pity_ \- shining in Mary’s kind smile. “I know adjusting can be rough. I remember that feeling. But hey, if you need anything-”

“I know, Mom. I promise, if something’s up, you’ll be the first to know. Scout’s honor.”

She shakes her head, patting at his shoulder before standing up. “That’s my boy.” Mary flashes one last smile at Dean before closing the door behind her, and he’s left alone again. Alone, with nothing but his mind.

Dean lies back, head hitting the pillow with a soft thud. He closes his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a moment to just breathe. The house is quiet for the most part, save for the soft commotion of his parents washing the dishes or watching TV. After a long drive, a home-cooked meal, and quality time with his family, he’s feeling pretty worn out. But it’s different from the feeling he’d felt after wrapping up a case; no, rather than feeling good about having something to kill and someone to save, Dean just feels _calm_ for once. Still a bit distraught about the memories of his life, of course, but an improvement nonetheless.

He reaches to the bedside table blindly, grabbing a pair of headphones. Slipping them over his head, he lets the familiar hum of Foreigner fill his cluttered mind.

( _He hadn’t known for sure that the headphones would be there, but hey, this is Heaven. Jack can conjure up whatever he damn well pleases, and Dean will absolutely be taking advantage of that._ )

It isn’t long before he finds his eyelids growing heavier, and before he realizes what’s happening, Dean falls into a comfortable sleep. He sleeps, and he dreams of shining blue eyes and warm hands and words he never got to say.

***

_Dean has always loved fishing. His dad would take him ever so often, between hunts, as a well-deserved break. He’d never admitted that, of course, but Dean could always tell that deep down, John was proud of him._

_Way, way deep down._

_He doesn’t remember this lake, though. He’s never seen it before. The water is a dark, murky blue- no black. Black water? Surely Dean would remember fishing here before. Why does it feel so familiar, then?_

_He hears Sam laughing in the distance. Eileen is there, too. They’re sitting on the hood of the Impala. Dean thinks Eileen is trying to teach Sam some phrase in sign language. Sam is probably butchering it awfully. He’ll have to remember to make fun of him for that later._

_Dean looks back out on the water. His fishing rod hasn’t budged. Maybe the bait has gone bad._

_There’s someone standing across the lake, waving frantically. They look familiar. Dean squints, making out the outline of a dusty trenchcoat and a blood-stained suit._

_The person is yelling, but Dean can’t hear them. He looks back at his fishing rod. Still nothing._

_Sam’s laughter grows louder. Dean looks back at his brother. He’s still with Eileen, but they aren’t smiling or talking anymore. They’re not doing much of anything, really, just staring at one another._

_Weird._

_The person across the water opens their mouth, and they yell._

_“Dean?”_

_He looks up again. The water is rippling heavy, but no fish have come._

_“Dean!”_

_Something is growing tighter in Dean’s chest, like someone is driving a drill through his ribcage and into his heart. Sam is still laughing._

_“Dean, you have to listen!”_

_The water grows more violent, bubbling and swirling. It lurches up from the surface, creeping toward the person in the trenchcoat._

_They keep yelling, but Dean can’t hear them anymore. All he hears is the burbling anger of the water below. It surrounds the person, wrapping around them, engulfing them entirely._

_“Hey!” Dean shouts. “What the hell are you doing? Stop!”_

_Before they disappear entirely, Dean catches a glimpse of familiar crystal blue. The person is smiling, tears pouring down their face, as they vanish._

_“No!”_

_Sam is still laughing. Eileen is gone._

_“Bring him back!” Dean screams at the nothingness in front of him. The water settles, ignoring his pleas. His fishing rod bobs happily, as though nothing happened at all._

_He looks around. Sam is behind him now, reaching for his shirt collar. Dean swears that, for a moment, his eyes flicker black. Sam grabs at the material tight, that sadistic smirk still lighting up his face, and he shoves his brother into the dark._

_And he’s falling. Dean is falling, and he’s clawing helplessly at the air around him, and suddenly there’s a stabbing sensation burning at the center of his back, and he can’t breathe, he can’t move, all he can do is stand there and feel the warmth of his blood spilling down his back._

_The blue-eyed angel is gone, and Sam is out there, cackling._

_And Dean is stuck._

***

Heaven, Dean finds, is surprisingly not easy to adjust to.

He gets along with both of his parents fine, which comes as a pleasant shock. Bobby visits once in a while for dinner, bringing booze and long anecdotes about hunts of the past. Ellen and Jo have the Roadhouse up and running, and Dean stops by once a week or so to chat. He’s surrounded by familiar faces and warm welcomes, and it’s nice.

Still, something feels eerie about the place. He’s chalked it up to just plain paranoia, considering the quite literal Hell on Earth he’d experienced in life. But now that there’s nothing to hunt, why is he still so uneasy? Surely Jack’s new Heaven is trustworthy... right?

( _Another thing- Heaven, despite the label it’s been given in the past, isn’t exactly Paradise. Dean still has flashbacks of his life, of people he misses and moments he regrets most. Not to mention, the nightmares. Who’d have known nightmares would exist in Heaven? Design flaw, maybe? New God isn’t exactly experienced._ )

Despite the freedom he’s been gifted, one thing remains constant- Castiel. Dean doesn’t go a single day without thinking of him, hearing his voice, feeling him reach out. Every chance he has, he tries to chase that feeling. He’d tried to block them out before, but that has become a thing of the past. He doesn’t want to shy away from those thoughts anymore; Cas is gone, really gone, and Dean can’t handle the thought of a life in Heaven without him by his side.

But Bobby’s words from his arrival still ring in the back of his mind. _Cas helped_ … 

Maybe, Dean thinks, there’s a chance Cas is still out there. Maybe he’s trying to reach out to him from the Empty. Or maybe he’s already back, and just afraid of what Dean might say if he meets him face to face.

God, how he wishes he could see Cas again. Just once.

And he's tried. He's prayed more than he can count, to Cas and to Jack and even to angels he knew were dead, because maybe they could find Cas in the Empty. He's listened and waited for signs. He's memorized the sound of Cas calling out to him in his dreams, because that voice always comes back, so loud and familiar but just out of reach. But weeks have passed, _months,_ and he has yet to receive an answer.

Of course, his mind is quick to tell him that it's intentional, that he's getting his hopes up for nothing, that Cas never really cared about him. The thoughts grow louder every day 

He's driving to the Roadhouse now, music blasting to drown out said thoughts as always.

( _For a so-called Paradise, he sure does a lot of unwarranted thinking. Whatever happened to the peace of mind he was promised?_ )

The radio crackles, song fizzling out. Dean lets out a huff, slamming on the breaks. He gets out of the car, running out into the empty street.

"Castiel!"

No response.

"C'mon, you bastard!" Dean screams to the sky, throwing his hands up. "Just talk to me! What, are you shy now? Come out here!"

Still, nothing.

The sky is a hazy gray, fog blurring his vision. He looks up, hoping, _praying_ for a sign of any sort.

"Cas…" Dean leans up against Baby's hood. "Come on, man. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep waiting for you. So if you're out there, if you can hear me… You need to get your shit together and come see me. We gotta talk, face to face."

An angry rumble shakes the sky, and fat droplets of rain come pouring down. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

"Cas, please. I… I can't do this. I need you."

He waits in the rain for a while, but nothing else happens. Eventually, Dean shuts himself back in the car, driving away without another word. 

The drive to the Roadhouse is easy and uninterrupted, save for the harsh rain outside. He tugs his jacket closer to his body, heading inside.

"Jesus. D'you go swimming in your clothes or somethin'?" Ash laughs, slinging an arm over Dean's shoulder. 

"Yeah, yeah. Or something."

They sit at the bar and chat for a while, conversation coming easy as it always does. It's easy to relax here, surrounded by the people he loves. He actually forgets about the mild crisis he was having beforehand.

Dean's in the middle of a story, filling in Jo and Ash about his experience fighting the Leviathans, when a sharp pain ignites behind his eyes. Dean groans, squeezing his eyes shut. It's harsh and piercing, and he finds himself doubled over the counter.

Eventually, the feeling subsides. When he opens his eyes, time has come to a standstill. His friends are frozen in place, Jo’s mouth hanging open mid-laugh, Ash’s hand hovering in the air above his laptop. There’s a rush of cold air behind him, static filling the air, and the pain floods his head again. A white light shines in his peripheral.

" _Dean?_ "

He groans in agony, hands pushing against his temples. "Hello?"

" _Dean!_ _Can you hear me?_ "

He knows that voice. Of course he knows that voice.

Part of him wants to ignore it. It’s been months now, and Cas has yet to show himself. It could just be another hallucination- he’s dealt with enough of those now to know not to get his hopes up.

But this feels different. He feels different.

"Damn it. Cas?"

" _Dean. Come with me._ "

"What?" His head is aching. "Where?"

" _We have to go! Now, Dean!_ "

Dean feels a hand gripping tight at his shoulder. Something clicks in his mind, and he smiles. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes.

"I'm right here, Cas," he says softly. "I'm here."

The pain screams inside of his head, and he feels like he's falling endlessly. Falling, and being pulled at the same time. Everything is so loud, so bright, and he can't see or breathe or feel a thing, just _pain,_ but he lets it happen anyway because he finally sees Cas, finally feels him, and he's _happy_ , and-

And something slams into his head, and he falls unconscious.

***

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!! lots of love!!
> 
> ~ sprinkle


End file.
